Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO MADE DEREK STEP BACK
Dominic Moretti stopped three feet away from me.
He didn't look at Derek's face first.
He looked at my hand still pressed over my stomach.
Then he looked at the red mark around my elbow.
Finally, he looked at Derek.
“You were hurting her.”
His voice was quiet.
That somehow made it worse.
Derek swallowed.
“I wasn't.”
Dominic glanced at Vanessa.
Then back at Derek.
“I saw your hand.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
The hallway had gone silent.
People were pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.
The city councilman from the ballroom had stopped near the doorway.
Two investors stood behind him.
Everyone knew who Dominic Moretti was.
Not because he attended charity galas.
Because his name was attached to half the stories people told in low voices.
Some were business stories.
Some were rumors.
And some were things nobody repeated after midnight.
He was not the kind of man who needed to threaten anyone.
People simply understood the consequences of disappointing him.
Derek tried to recover his confidence.
“This is a private matter between my wife and me.”
Dominic's eyes shifted to me.
“Is it?”
I didn't know what to say.
My heart was pounding.
My baby moved hard beneath the emerald silk.
I instinctively covered my stomach.
Dominic noticed.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.”
“Do you need a doctor?”
Derek stepped forward.
“She doesn't need anything.”
Dominic looked at him.
“I wasn't asking you.”
Derek's face tightened.
For the first time that evening, he looked small.
Vanessa tried to step between them.
“Mr. Moretti, this is a misunderstanding.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Then explain the bruise.”
She went quiet.
I looked down.
The red marks around my elbow were already darkening.
Derek muttered, “She pulled away.”
Dominic's expression didn't change.
“She didn't pull herself into your hand.”
Nobody laughed.
Nobody moved.
Then Dominic turned toward me.
“Your car?”
“Valet.”
“Do you want to leave?”
I nodded.
Derek stepped in front of me.
“You're not leaving.”
My breathing stopped.
Dominic didn't raise his voice.
“Move.”
Derek hesitated.
Then moved.
I walked toward the ballroom exit.
My legs were shaking so badly that I nearly stumbled.
Dominic walked beside me.
Not touching me.
Not crowding me.
Just close enough that nobody dared interfere.
As we reached the valet, my phone buzzed.
A text from Derek.
If you leave, I freeze every account tomorrow.
I stared at the message.
Dominic noticed my expression.
“What did he say?”
I hesitated.
Then showed him.
He read it once.
“Does he control the accounts?”
“Our joint accounts.”
“Then don't go home alone tonight.”
I looked at him.
“I don't know you.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the valet.
“But tonight, you need someone who doesn't owe Derek anything.”
A black SUV pulled up.
Dominic opened the rear door.
“Where should we take you?”
I gave him my mother's address.
The ride was quiet.
I watched the city pass through rain-streaked windows.
After several minutes, Dominic asked:
“How long has he been treating you like this?”
I stared ahead.
“Months.”
“And tonight?”
“He wanted me humiliated.”
“That was obvious.”
I looked at him.
“Why do you care?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said:
“Because I knew your father.”
My head snapped toward him.
“My father died seven years ago.”
“I know.”
“What did you know him from?”
“Business.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of business?”
Dominic looked out the window.
“The kind that made him very careful about who he trusted.”
I didn't understand.
Before I could ask more, my phone buzzed again.
This time it wasn't Derek.
It was an unknown number.
A photograph.
My father's old study.
The desk.
The brass clock.
And an envelope sitting beside it.
Under the photograph was one sentence.
He left something for you. Derek found it first.
My hands went cold.
Dominic looked at the screen.
“Who sent that?”
“I don't know.”
“Show me.”
I did.
He studied the photograph.
Then his expression changed.
“You know that room?”
“Yes.”
“Who has access to your father's house?”
“No one. It's been empty since he died.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Then someone wants you to know they were there.”
I stared at the image.
A tiny detail caught my eye.
The brass clock on my father's desk was open.
Inside it sat a folded piece of green paper.
My father's handwriting.
I had seen that handwriting all my life.
Dominic noticed it too.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
Ask Derek why the Moretti account exists.
I looked at Dominic.
His face became completely still.
“What Moretti account?”
I turned the phone toward him.
He read the message.
Then looked out the window.
“What?”
“I didn't know Derek had access to one.”
“To one what?”
“A Moretti account.”
He paused.
“That's the first thing tonight I don't like.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
May you like
Because Dominic's voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“That name is connected to something your father died trying to stop.”
